


(rib)cage

by dragonsong (NekoAisu)



Series: FFXIV Write 2019 [15]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dehumanization, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Manipulation, Masochism, Mild Injury, Mild Sexual Content, Other, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 11:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20873186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/dragonsong
Summary: They say his highness is in love with a songbird.





	(rib)cage

**Author's Note:**

> For FFXIVWrite 2019!
> 
> Day 16 | Jitter
> 
> Tumblr post here: https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/post/187782438149/ffxivwrite-2019-prompt-16-ribcage

Of all the rumors surrounding Garlemald’s First Prince, one one is close to becoming urban legend. From a passing servant’s words came an explosion of talk. The buzz slowly died down and the original facts had been distorted enough that it became as such: Zenos yae Galvus keeps a pet songbird.

It is a strange image for the people to try and envision—their nation’s warmongering heir being entertained by an avian creature. He does not seem nearly so soft as to be entertained by such a thing—and yet it sticks around in tongues and backstreet magazine articles. 

“Is it true? Does his Highness keep a songbird for company?”

“Wasn’t it a nightingale?”

“No, a parrot.”

“I am surprised it is not a hunting hawk.”

The rumor continues to twist and change the more it is spoken of. The poor servant who started the gossip being nowhere to be seen. High within the walls of the capital’s fortress-like imperial castle, the prince in question pays it no mind.

Dressed in the colors of the imperial family, the Warrior of Light signs, “You’ve certainly grown docile.”

“And you as well,” Zenos agrees from his place above them, hands knitting familiarly in their hair. “It’s a shame you don’t sing the way you used to, beast.”

They shrug and lean into his touch. Had he wanted to kill them, he would have the moment his grip was sure enough on their skull. He wouldn’t harm them (not enough to see the light bleed from their eyes) unless they asked. It is disgusting, their dependence on his niceties and whims, but what is worse is how his kindnesses are not so pleasurable as his cruelty. 

He carefully detangles a knot in their hair and the Warrior shivers, jittering around internally in hopes he can just be mean to them. It’s not that they enjoy pain, but rather fear the relaxation of their body and mind the more he is gentle. They would rather he give them reason to hate the way he first had—when he had tumbled down with them into the Royal Menagerie, the two of them torn from the heavens and locked in combat until the bitter end—with a blade through their chest and his mocking smile seeing them to sleep.

They want him to revel in war the way he did before. They want him to be wretched. They want him to break them down and give them reason to fear. They still have paranoia wrapped like armor about their mind. His touch should hurt. When it doesn’t, they don’t know what to do with themself. 

He has told them and keeps telling them, “Ask for it. I want willing prey.”

They shudder at the thought of being so thoroughly debased and refuse. Time and time again. Until his offers fade in frequency and the seasons turn. They will not ask that of him, even under threat of death. 

He threatens them, he truly does, but they fear no blade when all it ever does is press at their neck. Insistent. Unmoving. Hungry. 

They fall together again, the feel of his skin growing familiar beneath their hands, and they crave something terrible so deeply they all but forget that it’s something they could have. Zenos holds their hand, flushed and sweaty beneath them in a way he never is after battle, and offers, “I can give it to you, my beast. All you need do is ask.”

They shiver and deliberate, working him over all the while in an attempt to distract and reroute the need pulsing in time with their heart beat. Leaning down, they nod into his neck as if afraid to admit they would like something so innately destructive. 

_Please._

He gives them what they need one careful taste of hurt at a time. They breathe through the bloom of bruises forming, bite their tongue at the feel of welts rising along their back, and do not allow him the one thing he seeks the way they do pain. 

Their voice. 

“Sing for me again,” he demands. “Give me the one pleasure you yet keep locked away.” 

And they do, given time and a firm hand. They sing in tongues forgotten by man but not beast, Zenos all but feasting on the sounds they make. He smiles at them, lips stained red from blood and a tingle that threatens to bruise, and stops─locking them in the cage of their own mind once again. 

The cycle continues, month by month, day by day, until the Warrior accepts their needs and his affections. He knows of the rumors and laughs at how Eorzea’s savior was thought to be a bird. He wonders how they would look in brighter colors and more ostentatious dress, a peacockish type of creature, and finds that to be even more ridiculous than the gossip itself. As if he would allow them to be so openly coveted by eyes other than his own.

They deserve nothing if not his attentions. Opening the door to his bedchambers, he allows himself a smile at what he sees. “Are you ready for me, my beast?”

The Warrior swallows down their nerves and sings for him again. 

**Author's Note:**

> views? cool  
kudos? lit  
comments? god tier  
please feed my attention-mongering tendencies with feedback
> 
> xiv tunglr | https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/  
main | https://kiriami-sama.tumblr.com/  
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